Emotional Suicide
by Killian
Summary: It began with emotions. It continued with emotions. It ended with emotions.


**Emotional Suicide**

* * *

Emotions were running high, each of them equally frustrated and annoyed. It began with yelling – insults, name calling, and the like. Then it became hands on, a shove or a push here or there. Eventually one of them became cornered with the other merely inches from them, slamming them into the wall. Then, suddenly, it became a grope fest; the hands that were only moments ago pushing and shoving were now more occupied with touching and feeling. And then the battle of insults morphed into a heated battle of tongues in a more literal sense. Finally, it dove straight into the deep end.

"You're good," Jou manages to say, still breathing heavily. Seto raises his eyebrows.

"I've heard that before, but I didn't quite expect it from you," he replies rather nonchalantly. Jou blanches slightly, partly due to a communication error but mostly to this sudden supply of information.

"You've done…" Jou starts before realizing that by the look on Seto's face he didn't want to go there. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Jou bites his lip absentmindedly, trying to recollect his thoughts.

"You're good at hiding your emotions, that's all I meant," Jou explained as Seto stood up and began to collect his garments from the floor. Seto shrugged as he buttoned his shirt.

"So what? Everyone does it," he replies, obviously not caring much for the subject at hand. But Jou either failed to see that or didn't care. He wouldn't let the subject drop.

"No. No they don't." Jou rebutted as he slipped into his boxers.

"Yes, yes the do. You think everyone shows their emotions? Well, maybe in your perfect world. Think again, mutt." Seto sneered. Jou scowled to himself, choosing to ignore the dog comment. "They don't. It would be emotional suicide." Jou rolled his eyes.

"Emotional suicide my ass," he quietly muttered to himself. Once both of them had finished getting dressed they just stood there silently, staring at each other as if to say 'what now.' It was Jou who broke the silence.

"What are ya doing Saturday?" He asked, somewhat nervously.

"Work," Seto said simply. Jou looked down at his feet, trying not to look somewhat crestfallen. Seto stared at him momentarily, then:

"This is not a date," Jou looked up before nodding in agreement.

"It's not-" He said.

"Good." Seto said curtly. "A car will come by for you at seven," he concluded before turning abruptly and leaving the room.

* * *

Calling it a one night stand would be incorrect for in actuality it wasn't simply for one night. An extended one night stand might fit better but it still lacks the explanation for the events outside of the bedroom. But calling it a relationship would be a gross exaggeration. Merely even calling it a sort of correlation between the two would be kind of a risk. Simply, it just existed in itself. It didn't belong in any sort of group or subheading. It was a category all its own.

Jou was sitting on a stool at a counter in Seto's kitchen. He was spinning around absentmindedly, waiting for Seto to come home. Sitting on the counter was a bag of take-out for them to eat once he arrived. Jou glances at the clock. He was late.

Moments later Jou found himself driving to Seto's office. He had no idea what he was doing. Seto had been late before, usually because he had found another project that needed finishing touches or a program had to be debugged. But that was only on the nights, outings, or whatever you wanted to call what they did that Jou had suggested. This time Seto had asked Jou to come over. Well, not directly but that was the intent.

He walked into the building and walked straight past Seto's secretary, trying hard to ignore the scary security men that stood in almost every corner. The secretary tried to yell after him to stop but that only caused Jou to walk faster. He knew where Seto's office was. And fortunately he found it soon because he didn't want security to escort him outside until he had talked to Seto.

"Hey, call off security, would ya? I don't think they appreciated me walking in here like I own da place." Jou said, leaning against the door. Seto was standing with his back to him, looking outside from the floor-to-ceiling windows. He made no motion as to call his secretary, let alone security.

"Kaiba?" Jou questions. He walks toward Seto. And then he notices it. It being a black, shiny, and very dangerous piece of weaponry. Or, to be exact, a gun.

"K-kaiba?" Jou asks again. Seto looks up at him suddenly as if he hadn't realized that Jou was in the room.

"They know," he deadpans with a sort of detachment.

"What? Knows what? Who knows, Kaiba?" Jou asks, not taking his eyes off the gun.

"The public," Seto answered simply.

"And what do they know?" Jou said, slowly taking a step towards Seto. It didn't seem it alarm him. He took another step.

"About us," Jou stared at Seto.

"What?" Never before had Seto referred to them as us. Of course, this was not the time to be thinking about such trivial things. Jou took a deep breath.

"Well you can just deny it. There is no us, remember?" Jou struggles to get out. He didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth nevertheless. And then Seto seemed to return to reality. He looked at Jou, giving him a weak smile.

"I can not deny it Jou. I can't." Seto says, the last sentence in barely a whisper. And that seemed to be the end of Seto's little speech as he brought the gun to his head. He looked away.

And in an instant Jou was on him, trying to grab the gun from him. But Seto refused to let go. It was a game of tug-of-war, Life on one side and Death on the other. And, so far, life wasn't doing so well.

"Don't do this Kaiba, please I-" But Jou wasn't able to finish. Seto had let go of the gun.

But not before pulling the trigger.

The shot was instantaneous. Seto stood there for what seemed like an eternity, blood slowly seeping from his chest. Then, Seto fell onto the ground. He lay on the ground, twitching slightly as the blood began to flow freely from the wound. Jou stared on, motionless, afraid to move as then the moment would cease to be a dream or a nightmare and become cold, hard reality.

Then, he walked over to Seto's body and knelt onto the floor, pulling Seto's head into his lap and running his hand through Seto's soft hair. He sat there for a few moments, waiting for the tears to come. But none came.

"You were right Seto," Jou murmured, staring into Seto's empty cold blue eyes. "It is emotional suicide." He glanced at the gun in his hand.

The question was, yet again, what now?

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


End file.
